


The Devil Lived In Georgia

by Ashbashcrashed



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 13:00:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18660931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashbashcrashed/pseuds/Ashbashcrashed
Summary: Emily Prentiss wanted to live a simple life, solving murders and avoiding her mother's withering glances. Surely that wasn't too much to ask for.





	The Devil Lived In Georgia

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: None of these things are mine thanks.

The flight back from Atlanta, Georgia was a good one; Reid had successfully flirted with a pretty woman, Austin—and saved her life. Emily Prentiss had heard about his affair with Lila Archer, popular actress and heartthrob, but seeing something like it was completely different to hearing Morgan rib Reid about it.  
JJ and Garcia texted her throughout the ride, JJ to check up on her replacement’s progress (good; smoothed along by Emily), Garcia to ask if she wanted Paul ‘Viper’ Thomas obliterated from the online world. The offer made her smile, but the further away they got from Atlanta, the more she felt the experience of his flirting washing away.  
It had been good to have Jordan with her. Together they had wiped away that creep’s smile and made him shut up. He was becoming an amusing anecdote, one she would use to describe the difficulties of working for the FBI at one of the Ambassador’s parties.  
As she had laughingly reassured Hotch, Viper wasn’t as bad as some of the guys she had dated. The fact that she was mainly referring to her fake (on her part) engagement to Ian Doyle, a criminal wanted internationally, was irrelevant.  
Yes, the jet ride was relaxing. Everyone was happy, content. There was a healthy amount of bickering—always a good sign with this lot.  
“Morgan is a unisex name, is all I’m saying…” Derek said, with a smirk.  
“But so is Aaron.” Hotch said, a rare, rival smirk on his face.  
“No? No it isn’t.” Morgan said, crossing his arms.  
“Think about it. ‘Aaron’ and ‘Erin’ are pronounced exactly the same. So whatever gender the kid is, it can be called ‘Aaron’. No one will know. Besides, if anyone on this team deserves to have a namesake, it’s me.” Hotch said, crossing his arms and leaning back.  
“Well actually, as a founding member of the BAU, I’m surely more deserving of a namesake than anyone else on this team.” David Rossi said, joining the conversation from behind them.  
“I dated JJ,” Reid chimed in. the other three men turned to look at him.  
Emily looked up from her phone and snickered.  
“JJ told me all about your ‘date’,” Emily told him, grinning. “She also says that the baby will be named by her and Will—you know Will, the father of her child?” there was a mischievous glint in her eyes, watching them squirm uncomfortably.  
Their discomfort soon vanished, as Derek remembered her embarrassing encounter with Viper. “My bad, python.” He said. She could tell he was tempted to stick his tongue out at her.  
Jordan raised an eyebrow. “You’re severely overestimating that creep.” The men turned to look at her.  
“You get a look?” Rossi asked, smirking.  
“Didn’t need to.” Emily and Jordan said simultaneously. They grinned at each other, then Jordan clicked her fingers together, remembering something.  
“Hey, we never did add each other on Facebook…”  
By the time the jet landed they were friends, privately messaging and bursting into bouts of laughter which made their male colleagues—rightfully—nervous.

 

A new day, a new murder. That’s just how things worked in the BAU. Emily sank into her chair, sipping coffee while she waited for the other members of the team to arrive.  
Hotch and Jordan started the briefing when Garcia burst in, holding a package and looking odd.  
Hotch had his stern face on. “Garcia, we’re in the middle of—”  
“Sir, you’re going to want to see this.” Penelope said, her voice strangled with emotion. Garcia put the package on the table and slid it to Emily, who raised an eyebrow and looked the package over. Of course, it had gone through security so it didn’t contain anything dangerous. But it was very, very odd for her to receive a parcel at work.  
Especially at this time of the day.  
She didn’t recognise the handwriting, and it was postmarked Georgia… She looked at the package, eyebrows knitting together as she tried to work out if she knew anyone in Georgia, let alone anyone who would send something to her workplace.  
Hotch cleared his throat and she opened the large brown package, giving him an apologetic look. Garcia clearly wanted this opened immediately, and as an FBI agent, it wasn’t out of the question that she would receive time sensitive information.  
Under the brown paper was a white box.  
It wasn’t her birthday.  
She lifted the lid, and immediately dropped it, her face turning bright red. “Fucking hell,” she muttered, unable to stop herself, before she covered her face with her hands, wanting to disappear.  
Garcia, unable to control herself any longer, burst into laughter. Everyone else was extremely confused.  
Reid was sitting next to Emily, and he lifted the lid off the box. “Ah.” He said, nodding.  
He pulled out a leopard print bra and panty set, and the way he primly held the lingerie made everyone start to laugh.  
There was a note in the box, which Emily hadn’t even seen—she had taken one look at the lingerie set and become too embarrassed to continue. Spencer pulled it out and began to read:  
“Dearest Agent Emily Prentiss: Some people call me the space cowboy, ‘cause I’m a lover and I’m a sinner. Let’s play cops and robbers. I’ll steal your heart, you handcuff me to your bed. Viper.  
P.S. take pics and send them to me. I’ll be waiting.”  
Spencer cleared his throat, eyebrows raised. He placed the note back in the box, then added the lingerie set, and the lid. He shoved the package in Emily’s direction, but she was still covering her face with her hands. When the box touched her elbow, she took the package up, walked over to the bin and shoved the whole mess in it. Dave snickered, and she glared at him, face red with anger.  
“Let’s get back to the briefing.” She ordered. Aaron nodded, and the rest of them fell into quiet—Penelope had left the room as quickly as she had entered it, keen to avoid her friend’s wrath—though most of them were still smiling, especially if they looked at Emily, who was glaring into nothingness.  
When the briefing was done, Emily fled. Jordan rushed off behind her to comfort her. Spencer, Derek and David all wandered out into the bull pen. Spencer muttered to Derek, “Why would people call him ‘the space cowboy’? What does that mean?”  
Derek chuckled. “They call him the space cowboy ‘cause he’s a lover and a sinner. He said so in the note, remember pretty boy?”  
“Of course I remember,” Spencer said, still frowning in concentration. “But what does it mean?”  
Dave took pity on him. “It’s from a song, Reid. ‘The Joker’ by The Steve Miller Band. About some cat who fancies himself a ladies’ man. Appropriate enough, for this creep, I guess.”  
Aaron pulled the box out of the bin, put it in the brown wrapping and took it to his office. He put it in a drawer in his desk, and locked the drawer. He had a feeling they would be needing this at some point.


End file.
